


Missing Home

by slipper007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Castiel Has Nightmares (Supernatural), Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Dean Winchester Tries, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Gap Filler, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mentioned Ephraim (Heaven Can't Wait), Post-Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Spoilers for Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Wistful, they sleep together (NOT sexual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipper007/pseuds/slipper007
Summary: After maybe 5 minutes of near-silence, Dean turned off the radio and spoke. "Where do you live? I can drop you off there and you can get some sleep before your shift tomorrow.""Gas-N-Sip.""I'm serious, Cas. You're human. Sleep is a requirement. It's way too early to head over there so let me take you home.""Just leave me at the Gas-N-Sip." Cas could feel the emptiness twisting in his chest at those words.Home. Human.They felt almost like taunts, even though they weren't said as such.Dean was absolutely silent for nearly a minute before he hesitantly asked, "Cas... You do have a home, don't you?"Castiel kept his head up and tried to keep himself steady. In a flat tone, he finally replied, "Like I told you, when I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers." Cas couldn’t bring himself to look Dean in the eyes. "Being with you and Sam was my home."Until you kicked me out.Fills the Fan-Fic gap in s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 240





	Missing Home

**Author's Note:**

> Well, y'all, I've been working on this fic on and off for literally 5 years and Castiel confessing his love and all the Tumblr drama finally got me to finish it
> 
> TW (?) for Castiel remembering Metatron slitting his throat in s08e23 Sacrifice 
> 
> Please someone help me format I do not know what I'm doing

“Where to, Cas?"

Castiel stayed silent, some creature of shame and loneliness crawling inside his chest. He climbed into the passenger seat and it was only moments before Dean joined him, stepping in and starting the car in one smooth motion.

For a short while, they drove with nothing but the sounds of wind and quiet rock. It would have been peaceful if it didn't give Cas so much time to remember Ephraim's words: _I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is._

Castiel knew. He knew it better than any would guess. He felt it echoing in his human soul with every human breath. He heard it in the silence surrounding him as he crawled into his sleeping bag at night, alone except for the occasional mouse. He saw it in his face every single day when he looked in the mirror and saw tired, broken blue eyes staring back at him. Human pain was everywhere, inescapable. His pain.

After maybe 5 minutes of near-silence, Dean turned off the radio and spoke. "Where do you live? I can drop you off there and you can get some sleep before your shift tomorrow."

"Gas-N-Sip."

"I'm serious, Cas. You're human. Sleep is a requirement. It's way too early to head over there so let me take you home."

"Just leave me at the Gas-N-Sip." Cas could feel the emptiness twisting in his chest at those words. _Home. Human._ They felt almost like taunts, even though they weren't said as such.

Dean was absolutely silent for nearly a minute before he hesitantly asked, "Cas... You do have a home, don't you?"

Castiel kept his head up and tried to keep himself steady. In a flat tone, he finally replied, "Like I told you, when I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers." Cas couldn’t bring himself to look Dean in the eyes. "Being with you and Sam was my home."

_Until you kicked me out._

Dean had the decency to look guilty. "I— I didn't know..."

"You didn't ask either."

Words sat unbidden on Cas’ tongue. _Where did you think I would go? Who else do I have to turn to? I trusted you, I— I… and now… now I don’t recognize either of us._

There was silence for almost ten minutes before Dean pulled into a motel and climbed out of his beloved car. "We're here. You're staying with me tonight.”

Castiel lingered inside the car. He knew it was just a set-up, a temporary fix. He wanted to go in, he wanted to be wanted and welcomed and _home_ so badly… As much as he hated his fear of being made to leave again, it kept him stuck outside for a few extra minutes until he eventually followed.

Dean led him to a door and unlocked it before stepping in, closing it once Cas was inside. After, he moved his duffle bag to the floor and started pulling the couch apart to reveal the pull-out bed.

"How about you hop in the shower for a bit? Hot water might do you good. Plus it'll give me some time to get the pull-out made."

Cas hesitated. He might not know much about human customs, but he knew what the showers in the shelters were like. Cold water sluiced down his body if he was too far back in the line, leaving him freezing if he wasn’t careful. Showering first, when the water was still warm and left the room steamy, was a rarity, one of the few things he had to enjoy now when he could get it. Was Dean sure he wanted to give that up?

Dean saw his stiff posture and waved Castiel towards the bathroom encouragingly.

"Alright."

The bathroom was typical for a motel, but to Castiel it seemed—for a lack of better words—like Heaven. He sighed at the thought and carefully folded his clothing to place on the edge of the sink. They were clean enough to wear for his shift tomorrow, he decided. Even better, Nora wouldn’t be working, so no one would have to know.

The water was hot against his skin, still sticky in spots from the slushy spill earlier. It stung in the cut on his hand and burned against his scalp. Castiel could feel it cleansing him, not just physically but mentally. He almost cried as days’ worth of tension found its way out of his muscles for the first time in months. He hadn’t gotten a hot shower like this since—

And just like that, it was done.

The shower and spending the night were a kindness, Castiel reminded himself as he pulled back on his jeans and button-down. Just like back at the bunker, he was a guest, welcome for the night but no longer. The more he remembered that, the better off he’d be.

When Cas emerged, hair still wet and clothing clinging to his damp skin, Dean was sitting cross-legged on the pull-out bed and cleaning his gun.

"I don't want to hear it," he said the moment Cas started to protest. "You're taking the bed, end of discussion."

"But you have to drive—”

"End of discussion." He set his gun down and stood. “The bed is clean and I'm sure as hell not letting you sleep on this thing. You deserve better." He was quiet as he pulled out a pair of extra clothes from his duffle and handed them over. "We can get you something more in the morning before your shift if you want, but I figure these're more comfortable than what you've got on." He critically eyed the button down and jeans and Cas knew he was wondering if Cas even owned anything other than what he had seen. Shame bubbled up again and he reluctantly took the clothes.

Cas disappeared into the bathroom to change once more. They were simple, only a worn Led Zeppelin shirt, boxers, and sweatpants, but they were comfortable. Castiel caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped. He looked… a little less lost, a little more like he had something to go back to. It startled him.

He went back to the main room, where Dean said, “They suit you.” Maybe they did. Cas stood by the bed for a moment, on the edge of speech.

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed? I don’t know-”

“ _Yes_ , Cas. Now climb in and go to sleep.”

Castiel did most of what he was told. He allowed himself to savor the softness of the mattress when he lied down but couldn’t find it in him to sleep, not just because the bed was far squishier than his sleeping bag on the storeroom floor. Between the evening’s events and Dean’s sudden reappearance in his life, he had too much to think about. To boot, the ruined skin of his palm stung and his wrist ached from how Ephraim had bent it back, but he stayed silent about it, hid it as best as he could. Somehow Dean must have noticed as he handed over some Advil after a few moments.

Dean was funny like that. Either he noticed when someone was hurting, physically or otherwise, or he didn't. There was no gray area between. The same went for his help, either going full out or cutting ties like he had months ago. Like he would in the morning.

"Cas." He heard snapping and came back to himself to find Dean's hand inches from his face, worry etched in his brow. "You look tired, man. Take your pills and go to sleep."

"Why are you doing this?"

Dean actually looked taken aback. "What?"

"Why are you doing this?" Cas repeated as he sat up, the same emptiness as earlier taking hold in his gut. “There's nothing left I can give you so why are you wasting your time on me? Time, medicine, clothes, sleep; I'm not worth it. I'm useless, hopeless." He paused before saying, "This is all to absolve yourself from guilt, isn't it? You don't—”

"Stop, alright." Dean held his hands up in a placating gesture, stomach in knots. "Do you really think I wouldn't try to help you unless I got something out of it?”

"You kicked me out like it was nothing to you, like _I was nothing to you_. You didn’t give me a reason to think otherwise.”

Dean flinched like he’d been slapped. “Making you go was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.”

“ _Had to do?_ Nobody forced you; you made your own decisions about how to handle this.”

“Yeah, well, what if I didn’t? Christ, Cas, why don't you trust me anymore?"

"Maybe because when _I needed you most_ , you let me fall again."

The words were heavy enough to demand silence until Cas could no longer bear the hurt on Dean’s face. He’d caused that. Now he truly wasn’t welcome, was he?

“I… I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He stood and started pulling on his shoes. “Thank you for the shower and clothes, but I really should go—”

“Cas-” Dean caught his arm. He looked so dreadfully torn, but about what? “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice to… to send you away. I wish you could have stayed with m- us.”

Castiel pulled his arm away and closer to himself. Motionless, he couldn’t do anything more than stare.

“I know you haven’t had it easy, doing this by yourself, and you were in danger tonight when you never should have been, but… I don’t know.” The Winchester took a breath and tried to look Cas in the eyes as he said, “I think I get it now, and I don’t expect you to trust me, but please stay tonight. You’ve been through enough crap without trying to find someplace else to stay.”

“I have a place…” Castiel started hollowly. 

“I’m not letting you sleep in a friggin' Gas-N-Sip.”

Numbly, Cas sat back on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Okay.”

Castiel managed to get a few hours of sleep as Dean stared at the ceiling, thinking. He had never wanted this. When he had helped Ezekiel possess Sam, he had never expected that he would have to force Castiel away, especially not now. He was human— _so breathtakingly human_ —and for the first time in his billion-year life, he needed help.

Castiel was resourceful. He was strong and wicked smart, with years of experience and an ability to see the bigger picture that Dean couldn’t even begin to imagine. Those traits had stuck with him, kept him alive (mostly), but they weren’t enough, were they? Dean was far from living his best possible life, but even he knew that survival was only the start of living. Safety was another basic need, Dean realized with guilt. Two basic needs, having the means and a safe space in which to survive, and he had destroyed them by pushing Castiel away. That was before factoring in trust, friendship, family….

Castiel whined in his sleep, and Dean heard panicked breathing. He got up to check on him and saw the stiffness of tense muscles and Cas’ hands clenching, desperately entwined in the sheets. Castiel bolted upright before he had a chance to intervene.

Castiel awoke with a start, hand flying up to his neck and the pain radiating from it. He was suffocating, he was _burning_ and the figure above him was—

Dean.

Castiel wrenched himself away and locked himself into the bathroom. 

“Cas—”

Castiel turned on the tap and drowned out both Dean and his own gasping, shuddering breaths. He ran the freezing water over his hands and arms. 

_You’re okay._

He caught his own glance in the mirror. Pale skin with a sheen of sweat on his brow, face a little too drawn and eyes a little too wide and wild.

_You’re okay._

He pressed a cold hand to his throat and felt his racing pulse underneath his fingers. He swallowed instinctively and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

_I want to live._

__

_But as what Castiel? As an angel? Or a man?_

He remembered being trapped in Heaven, Metatron slitting his throat to steal his grace. He remembered the world going dull around the edges and bursting pressure in his lungs as he suffocated. He remembered the feeling of blood dripping from his neck and bubbling as he desperately tried to breathe, the faux leather under his clenched fingers and cold metal wrapped around his wrists.  
And then it was done. He was a human. But he still fell. He still heard angel radio. Didn’t that still make him an angel? Fallen, but an angel. Yet he was undeniably human. What was he? What did he want to be?

His head hurt. When had he slumped to the floor?

“Cas?”

Dean. On the other side of the door.

On shaky legs, Castiel stood, unlocked and opened the door. Dean scrambled to his feet and took Cas’ offered hand. Castiel remembered once Dean’s was in his that his hands were still wet, as were his throat and face. He didn’t remember getting his face wet.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Castiel felt the words get lost in his throat so he nodded. Dean wasn’t convinced.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he choked out. 

“Hey, do you want to stay up a while?”

Castiel shook his head vigorously. “Work tomorrow, can’t.” He started towards the bed, seemingly unconscious of the fact that Dean’s hand was still within his.

“Cas?” He turned, eyes simultaneously vacant and hyper focused. “Can I have my hand back?”

“Oh, uh…” Castiel let go.

“Alright, well. Anything I can do?”

Castiel looked conflicted for a moment, eyes falling to the floor.

“No.”

“Cas?”

Dean was met with silence as Castiel got into bed. He himself followed suit after a few minutes.

Dean didn’t know how much time had passed before the other side of the mattress sunk with the weight of another person.

“Can I stay?”

Normally, Dean would say no. The issue wasn’t that Castiel was a man, it never had been. No, his issue was that Castiel was an angel: unknowable by nature, incredibly old and vast and strikingly esoteric. He was lightning and stars and aether all compacted into a human form. Castiel didn’t belong in his bed, laying with a human. He was beyond that. An angel's angel. _The very touch of you corrupts._ But he couldn’t say that. Not when there was a hand, solid and real, wrapped in his own only a short while ago. Not with pained yet hopeful eyes cautiously looking at him through the dark.

This was Cas. This was his best friend. Messy, human Cas: the Cas who didn’t know how to treat a fever, who made the best of his situation, who was experiencing a new first every day, who knew so much about life yet nothing about living.

“You can stay,” he said, and he felt a shuddering breath of relief less than a foot away. 

Cas laid down fully next to him and curled up on his side, facing away from Dean. It wasn’t long until the gap between them closed.

Come morning, Dean was the first to wake up. Cas was still out, curled on his side under the covers. His brow was furrowed slightly, though the rest of his face was serenely slack. Their limbs were tangled together, and for a moment Dean worried.

This was Cas in his bed, _Cas_ had spent the night.

The Winchester determined he’d be sleeping for a while and started to extract himself when an alarm started going off. Cas’ phone, he realized. Cas stirred, eyes blearily opening as he groaned. 

“I’m going to get breakfast; I’ll be back soon.”

“Stay?”

Dean froze as Castiel groggily rubbed his eyes. He wanted to. Dean wanted to stay there with him for hours on end.

“We can’t, Cas,” he murmured gently. 

Castiel nodded his understanding and started to get up. Work had come too early. Their time together was up.

Dean slipped the cash he had into Cas’ pants pockets as he showered. When he was ready, they climbed into the impala, grabbed a quick breakfast, and stopped at Gas-N-Sip.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean started. “Back at the bunker, I, uh… Sorry I told you to go. I know it’s been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you’re adapting. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt, but it was gratifying to hear. Still, there were more pressing things to discuss. “But there’s something Ephraim said. The angels – they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn’t I be searching for a way to get them home?”

“Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You’re human now. It’s not your problem anymore.”

_An angel? Or a man?_

__

__

_By choosing a human life, you’ve already given up. You… chose… death._

Castiel bowed his head. Maybe Dean was right. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He was alive, but he wasn’t living. He needed to make something of it.

Castiel got out of the car and solemnly waved goodbye before walking to the Gas-N-Sip and letting himself in. He heard the Impala’s engine start up behind him but carried out some of his tasks regardless. 

The TV reported on his fallen siblings and Castiel turned it off, his mind too full of thought. Regardless of what he was now, human or otherwise, wasn’t it still his responsibility to at least try to fix things? After everything—the cancelled apocalypse, the civil war, the genocide, the fall—didn’t he owe it to his siblings to at least try to make amends?

He made his way back to the window just in time to see the Impala start to drift away. For a moment, Castiel thought about racing outside and demanding to be let into the loop. But all of his attempts to help backfired, didn’t they?

Dean left, and Castiel didn’t stop him.


End file.
